


as soon as you turn sixteen you are legally owned by ringo starr

by lethargicmellow



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Best Friends, Birthday, Canon-Typical Behavior, I think Im hilarious, I'm Bad At Tagging, Inspired by Real Events, No Plot/Plotless, Past Child Abuse, Piss kink, SO, Sibling Bonding, This is very short, and sort of depressing, jk, just gays being bros, siblings based on my sister and i, so r some of yall tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28643727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicmellow/pseuds/lethargicmellow
Summary: tw for mentions of abuse and dave's shitty childhoodIn the morning, Rose toes your door open with a socked foot. You hear her coming anyways, obviously, but you don’t bother to sit up from where you stare at the ceiling until she sits at the edge of your bed. She apparently hadn’t bothered to wash off yesterday’s makeup, it smudges darkly around her eyes and mouth. Her bangs are pinned away from her face and when she looks at you her eyes squint in the morning light. You know you probably look just as bad, yet you can’t help but laugh at the bleary glare she fixes on you. And maybe it’s just the remnants from your slightly depressing thoughts last night, but it hits you that you really fucking care about her.(one boy thinks about his life the night after he turns sixteen)
Relationships: Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider, Rose's Mom | Beta Roxy Lalonde & Dave Strider
Kudos: 7





	as soon as you turn sixteen you are legally owned by ringo starr

**Author's Note:**

> tw for mentions of abuse  
> if u need to skip it's that first supr long italicized section. mostly abt rose being sad she didnt notice before  
> we love her anyways tho
> 
> obvi id lov sum reviews or kudos if you enjoyed or passionatley fuckin hated it  
> i also love you  
> no homo tho ahahaha >:-]

Your name is Dave Strider.  
You are sixteen years old. Very freshly sixteen, considering you spent the better part of your day accepting birthday wishes and fruitlessly denying gifts. Now it’s nearly two am and your laptop sits dejectedly and dark-screened right where you abandoned it. You were watching ridiculous and oddly dark fan theories for a game you’ve never played when you’d rediscovered the magic of static. You’d been running your hand idly across the teddy bear Rose had given you

_(It had been resting outside your door that morning. When you’d asked Rose at breakfast she’d insisted that she was simply ascribing to your “beloved irony.” It was like that, this game that you play. You both skirt around the topics that make you uncomfortable, sharing looks but never speaking._   
_Like when you went back to your old apartment to pack the last of your things. She had made an offhand comment on the distinct lack of childhood toys, stuffed animals, any blanket thicker than a sheet. You’d shot back with some bullshit excuse along the lines of “when I was a young, cold and shivering anklebiter I simply crawled toward the nearest puppet and enveloped my bod into their luxurious downy behind. Fuckin’ creeped right into their spacious anal cavity. Whoa, not like in a sexual way though-” which honestly probably only gave Rose more things to write in her goddamn notebook. It hadn’t, however, erased the crease between her eyebrows or the way she had cried on the plane ride back when she’d thought you were asleep. You knew she blamed herself, and her pitiful yet quiet sobs made your throat hurt and your eyes sting. It was fucking torture, leaving her like that.)_

when there was a little stripe of electricity along the fuzz your hand had just abandoned. You’d quickly resorted to rubbing it aggressively just to see the little sparks it caused. Now the shitty Ikea bed frame that you and your mother had bullshitted through building is shaking against the wall violently enough that someone who walked by might think you were doing something else. God, you hoped no one walked by. At the moment, though, you didn’t care about people and their thoughts on your jerking off habits. You only cared about the pure white shocks you could get from simply rubbing a piece of fabric (damn it, these comparisons weren’t gonna get any less masturbation-y). The shocks didn’t hurt, you couldn’t even feel them. You liked it. You liked this, the way the static arced and rippled around your fingers, the satisfying crackling noise when it appeared. The corners of your mouth lifted a little and it struck your sleepless and addled brain that this was one of the only times you’ve experienced something so innocent as unadulterated joy. But that thought slipped away soon as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, Rose toes your door open with a socked foot. You hear her coming anyways, obviously, but you don’t bother to sit up from where you stare at the ceiling until she sits at the edge of your bed. She apparently hadn’t bothered to wash off yesterday’s makeup, it smudges darkly around her eyes and mouth. Her bangs are pinned away from her face and when she looks at you her eyes squint in the morning light. You know you probably look just as bad, yet you can’t help but laugh at the bleary glare she fixes on you. And maybe it’s just the remnants from your slightly depressing thoughts last night, but it hits you that you really fucking care about her.  
“Last night while I was reading I couldn’t help but hear some odd noises from your room. Celebrating another year alive, were we?” If you were wearing your shades you would probably let your eyes roll back into your head. Goddamn nosy bitch. You aren’t really mad (you know that she wouldn’t bring it up if she had truly thought that was what you were doing) but the vague threat of psychoanalytic banter so early in the morning is enough to make you almost groan. Almost.  
“Yeah, and to your girlfriend, too.” She rolls her eyes in response, but it’s far less biting when she still has the eyeliner tear tracks from when she’d cried while receiving the gift you’d made her last night. If it were anyone else you’d probably continue to go on a vague rant comparing rubbing one out to an orchestra. “Dave’s left hand : a conductor’s wand as aqua blue : turquoise,” but that would be pretty much equivalent to handing Rose a box full of Freudian treats, and despite it being your joint birthday yesterday, that’s not a gift you want to give her. Besides, you don’t really want her picking through that box of chocolates. She sniffs.  
“My sweet, innocent girlfriend deserves better than to be masturbation material for a boy who can hardly admit that he’s ever felt an emotion.” You wince inwardly. Ouch. You should feel bad for preying on Kanaya just to piss Rose off, she really is nice, but it’s almost worth it just to see the haughty stare your dear sister gives you. Also, you know if Kanaya were here she would be laughing her ass off in the polite and reserved way that she does. Rose gets up, apparently tired of talking to you already.  
“I’m going to get breakfast. If you want to- how do you say it?- ‘crank your wank’ to my undeserving _lesbian_ girlfriend try to get it done before mom leaves for work.” You grin at her retreating form and you know she left just to hide a smirk of her own.  
You are very freshly sixteen.  
But goddammit if you won’t enjoy every minute of it.

**Author's Note:**

> HAHA first fanfiction on this site. the way i heavily relate to/project onto dave and the inability to GET SUM GD SLEEP drov e me to write this. hopefully i wont regret  
> if want to cuss me out or smthn im on intsa @ lethargicmell0w. post art there sometimes


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